Science might soon deliver me an answer to the question most adults wonder their entire lives.
How will I die?
Statistics has already done a good job laying the groundwork. We know, for instance, motor vehicle accidents are the most likely cause of death for young people and construction work is the most risky career. When it comes to diseases, we know the heart is the most likely cog in the human machine to malfunction first.
But that’s general. And unspecific. That’s the problem with statistics — it’s a combined list of stuff that has already happened. I want something prescriptive.
How will I die?
Enter: The brave new world of home DNA tests.
For $100, a company based in California will ship me a tube in which I will deposit a significant amount of saliva. I will then ship this tube back across the country, and in six to eight weeks a website will tell me how likely I am to develop Parkinson’s, or prostate cancer, or diabetes, or some other terrifying terminal illness that will soon burrow its way into my thoughts.
I’m torn about whether this is a blessing or a curse. The knowledge of a high likelihood for liver disease, for instance, will probably make me think twice before I reach for that second beer. But I don’t want to live in a constant state of paranoia.
Speaking of paranoia, I have considered the fact that I am shipping my DNA — a literal blueprint of who I am — to a for-profit company. I am giving this company permission to put me in some database where a scientist can figure out what makes me tick. The fact that the company, called 23andMe, was founded by the wife of a Google co-founder is both comforting and disturbing. Don’t be evil, right?
With these concerns in mind, it’s easy to wonder why I paid to do this. I should tell you that I am interested in learning more about my ancestors. I should tell you that I want to find out whether my great grandfather really was a full-blooded Native American. I should tell you that I want to find out how French I actually am (hint: it’s not nearly as much as my last name implies) or whether my great-great-something was a Viking.
But none of those are the reason.
I saw an article a few weeks ago that said most humans have a bit of Neanderthal DNA — somewhere between 2 and 5 percent. I just want to know how much I have.
Isn’t science great?
